


Unreliable Branches

by ephemeralstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hidden Injuries, Hurt Peter Parker, Injury, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: Peter Parker - or rather Spider-Man - is finally taken on a mission alongside his idol and mentor, Tony Stark, it's everything he ever wanted and he's determined not to do anything to screw it up.It's just a shame no one warned him that hiding an injury was a bad idea.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 147





	Unreliable Branches

“Nice work team,” Mr. Stark called out through the comms, “the base is secured, we can fall back and let the soldiers take it from here. Underoos, you’re with me, come on Kid.” 

Peter shot a web towards the trees to his side, causing him to turn mid-air and double back towards his mentor, “on my way, Mr. Stark,” he promised, eager not to mess up as this was the first main mission he’d been called out on since Germany, he needed to prove he was up to the task. 

“You did good today, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said after a small beep sounded and they lost the background noise which indicated their conversation was private, “I’m proud of you.” 

“Th- thanks, Mr. Stark,” Peter said, his throat tightening a little with the praise, he shook his head and reminded himself to get a grip, he wouldn't cry because of a little validation. 

“I’m waiting where we came in,” Mr. Stark said, ignorant to Peter’s inner turmoil, “don’t take too long.” 

There was a small click as Mr. Stark disconnected. Peter grinned to himself and shot another web, letting out a loud whoop as he did so. 

Unfortunately, it seemed he had celebrated too early, as the branch he had shot at had been damaged during the fight and when Peter had swung from it, forcing it to bear his weight he ended up careering towards the ground with flailing arms as a loud splintering sounded above him. 

“Oh sh-” 

His curse was left unfinished as he landed with a muted thud against the forest floor, something cracking and causing a sharp spasm of pain to course through his upper body, so intensely that he couldn't even pinpoint where it had originated from. His mouth was filled with dirt and dried leaves that he was forced to splutter out. That’s what he got for pulling his mask up to stop it digging in under his chin.

“Peter?” Mr. Stark’s voice was suddenly back, “why am I getting reports of damage to the suit?” 

“Uh,” Peter groaned, “just a dud branch, don't worry.” 

He held his breath as he waited for a reply so that Mr. Stark wouldn't hear him panting to catch his pained breath. 

“Be careful, alright?” Mr. Stark told him with a snort, “try not to trip and break something.”

“Ha ha,” Peter muttered as he forced himself back to his feet, breathing through his gritted teeth as he did so, “I’m only a few minutes out, I’ll just walk the rest of the way, you know - to save the suit.” 

“It is a multi-million dollar investment,” Mr. Stark said, humoring him. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, holding his left arm as still as possible because it helped to control the pain, “one that we just took into a pretty violent fight.” 

“Rather it was damaged by a bullet than you walking into a wall,” Mr. Stark said, and Peter was almost sure he could hear the man shrug. 

“Wow, you want me to be shot?” Peter asked. 

“Sometimes, especially when you lose your ability to stop rambling,” Mr. Stark said, before waving at Peter as he came into sight, “you look rough, are you sure you’re alright?” 

Peter’s mind was flooded with the pain he had felt when he had fallen and the crack he had both felt and heard - something was wrong for sure, but he thought about the compliments that Mr. Stark had paid him after they’d successfully completed the mission. He couldn't help but worry that the man would second guess taking him on any more missions. 

So he bit his tongue and swallowed the pained whimper he wished could slip through his clenched jaw, “I’m fine, Mr. Stark, promise, I just need a burger or something.” 

“Shwarma,” Mr. Stark corrected. 

“Bless you?” 

“No, Kiddo, it’s the meal of missions,” Mr. Stark said with a laugh, “come on, stick to me, F.R.I. will order it to the tower.” 

“Alright.”

Peter carefully stuck himself to Mr. Stark’s back so that he was secured when the man soared into the air, he was used to traveling like this now, it was easier than bringing an entire jet just for the two of them, or taking quadruple the time to travel in a car. Of course, Peter had never considered how painful it would be to fly this way when he was injured, why would he? He was normally a lot better at swinging. 

The thrust seemed to rattle his bones and he couldn't help but breathe slowly through his teeth in an attempt to control the nausea that was sweeping through him and churning his stomach from the feeling of one of his bones grinding and moving minutely. 

It felt like it was maybe his collarbone? He wasn't entirely sure and he was no medical professional but his hearing was picking up on the bone shifting there and he was in a significant amount of pain. For a moment he wished that Mr. Stark wasn't carrying him and trying to make his life easier because at least then he could have asked Karen what to do without him overhearing and worrying. 

He was almost sure her answer would have been to tell the man what had happened but he couldn't do that, not now, not when he’d already lied to get this far. 

Stark Tower finally came into sight and Peter breathed out a sigh of relief that he didn't even know he had been holding, unfortunately, with that minuscule relaxation his shoulders also relaxed and he let out a strangled gasp of pain before he could stop himself. 

“What was that?” Mr. Stark asked. 

“Huh?” Peter asked, hoping that his high-pitched voice could be mistaken for shock rather than pain. 

Mr. Stark didn't say anything else, choosing to focus on his landing on the ledge that had opened up and extended for him, he touched down gentler than Peter had ever felt him do before and it made him think that maybe his suspicions were raised. 

_ Of course they were, he was acting weird and clearly in pain,  _ Peter reminded himself. Mr. Stark was a genius, he was going to notice Peter’s clear signs of injury. 

“You can get off now,” he was reminded. 

“Oh, right, yeah,” Peter mumbled, and carefully detached himself, supporting his sore arm carefully with his good one.

They walked in together in silence and that was how Peter knew he had fucked up; Mr. Stark’s shoulders were tense and his expression unreadable, until he suddenly whirled around and pinned Peter with an intense gaze that left no room for anything but the truth.

“Cut the crap and tell me exactly what’s going on,” Mr. Stark demanded. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Peter lied, like the stupid liar he was. He should have just confessed and accepted whatever ire he had earned at that point in time, but apparently, his brain and mouth were on different wavelengths and the falsities slipped out unintentionally. 

“Peter,” Mr. Stark said slowly, “do you think I’m stupid?” 

“What? No!” 

“Then why must you insist on lying to me?” 

“I’m not lying,” Peter lied, “I’m fine.” 

“You are  _ not  _ fine,” Mr. Stark said, his voice raising slightly, “look at you! You’re holding onto your arm in a vice grip and every time it so much as twitches you’re hurting, something is not right.” 

“Mr. Stark, listen, it’s not that bad,” Peter said quickly, “I promise, it’s just a bruise.” 

“Then take the suit off,” Mr. Stark said. 

“Wh-” Peter faltered, “what?” 

“Take off the suit and prove to me that you’re not hurt any more than a bruise,” Mr. Stark said, unwavering.

Peter gulped, he’d been called on his bluff and now he was going to pay for it, and Mr. Stark was going to be annoyed at him for wearing his mask up over his nose too because he was almost one hundred percent certain that he had split his lip. Could he pretend that he hadn't realised that had happened? That he hadn’t been able to taste the tangy metal of his own blood or feel the splitting of his skin? 

Probably not. 

Mr. Stark didn't let anything slide usually, unless it benefitted him, and letting one of Peter’s injuries slide would not work out in the older man’s favour whatsoever. 

“Peter, now.” 

Peter sighed and reached up to remove his mask, unfortunately moving the wrong arm as he did so. 

The bone ground again, but unfortunately this time was the one time that was just too much. His vision started to blur around the edges and then it went a blinding white. 

So, when Peter came around, still lying on the floor, although now without his mask on, he was mainly surprised that everything had gone white before he passed out - wasn't it all meant to fade to black? That was what the movies and TV shows always seemed to portray.

“Kid, you are so-” Tony broke off and sighed, running his hands through his sweaty hair, “are you alright?”

“Alright?” Peter repeated, “as in now or in general?” 

“I don't even know how to respond to that,” Mr. Stark admitted, “do you still feel dizzy at all?” 

“No, that’s all gone now.” 

“Any nausea?” 

“No.” 

“Alright then,” Mr. Stark said, “do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” 

“Uh, should I get up on the floor?” Peter wondered. 

“Are you in pain?” 

“Um, no, not really,” Peter said, “or less than I was before.” 

“Well then no, you can stay there and tell me exactly what you’re hiding.” 

“I-” Peter sighed, “I didn't want you to think that I couldn't handle missions, I can, I promise. I thought that if I got hurt then maybe you would get too worried to allow me to go out again.” 

“Did it ever cross your mind that maybe the reason I’m worried about you is because I promised your Aunt that I would protect you with my own life?” Mr. Stark asked. 

“Oh,” Peter said quietly, “so you’re not going to bench me?” 

“It depends.” 

Peter’s heart sank, “on?” he prompted. 

“How honest you are with me right now.” 

“Well,” Peter said, “I didn't lie about the tree branch being a dud, it was, but I didn't really tell the whole truth, because I was swinging from it when it snapped and I ended up face planting the ground.” 

“Kid, I was joking about the suit damage thing,” Mr. Stark said, “you know that right?” 

“Of course,” Peter said quickly, not letting his mentor take any blame for something that was his own fault, “I didn't keep it from you because of that, I promise.” 

“Alright then, keep going.” 

“So, when I hit the ground I busted my lip and I think I might have potentially broken my collarbone,” Peter admitted. 

“That’s a bit more than a bruise,” Mr. Stark commented. 

“Are you mad?” Peter asked, his voice smaller than he had intended it to be. 

“No,” came the reply after a moment’s pause, “well, maybe a little for lying, but I’m not mad at you for getting injured. Now come on, get up, we’re going to get that shoulder checked out.” 

“Is a broken collar bone bad?” Peter asked, feeling very much like a child. 

“If it’s not badly displaced, no, you’ll have your arm in a sling for a few weeks and we’ll get you some decent painkillers,” Mr. Stark said reassuringly, “besides, knowing your funky spider genetics, you probably won’t have to worry about it for long.” 

“And if it is badly displaced?” Peter asked anxiously. 

“Then it may need a little surgery.” 

“But, Mr. Stark, we haven't created an anaesthetic that works on me yet,” Peter said. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, but for now, let’s worry about the things we can control, like getting an X-Ray and maybe an ice pack.” 

Mr. Stark was gentle as he helped Peter to his feet, doing his best to support him from the side that wasn't hurting so that Peter could focus on keeping his arm still so there was no more grinding and no more passing out. 

“If you think you’re going to pass out, try and give me a little warning, alright?” Mr. Stark requested. 

“Uh huh,” Peter mumbled, “I’m fine, all good.” 

“Reassuring words.” 

After a series of tests that Peter didn't find particularly enjoyable, and some pain relief that finally took off the edge of the pain and stopped him from feeling like he was going to throw up the bile in his stomach. 

“I don’t like needles,” Peter admitted quietly, feeling weak for having such a childish fear. 

“I’ll let you into a secret,” Mr. Stark said gently, “neither do I.” 

“Huh, I would not have guessed that,” Peter said, “by the way, how do you know so much about broken  _ clavicles?”  _

He twisted his mouth around the word, using it purely because the doctor who had been checking him over was very keen to correct him every time he had called it his ‘collar bone’. 

“I tested all the Iron Man suits on myself, you don't escape from that unscathed.” 

“Huh, fair.” 

“Look, kid,” Mr. Stark said after a moment, “I wasn't completely honest before.”

“Oh, really?” Peter asked raising his eyes at the hypocrite before him. 

“If you don’t wipe that look off your face I  _ will  _ bench you,” Mr. Stark threatened, but his words lacked bite, “what I mean is that I don't just worry about you because your Aunt asked me to watch out for you, I worry about you because I care about you too.” 

“Aw, Mr. Stark,” Peter said in a slightly too high pitched voice, “I love you too.” 

“Wait no, no one mentioned the ‘L’ word,” Mr. Stark said quickly.

“It’s alright,” Peter said with a laugh as his pain meds made him feel giddy, “I won’t tell Happy you said it to me before him.” 

“Kid, I will gut you in your sleep.” 

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/)!! and if you'd like to check out my current WIP with an unusual pairing: 
> 
> [Fire In Our Souls](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622070)  
> When Peter Parker finds his childhood hero and renowned billionaire Tony Stark sitting in his living room chatting to his Uncle Ben one afternoon following school, the last thing he expected was for his life to be turned upside down as he's kitted out with a brand new Spider-Man suit and someone starts selling alien weapons on his doorstep.
> 
> Somehow those things are less strange than Mr. Stark's willingness to visit all the time and the way his eyes seem to linger on his uncle.


End file.
